29. Astraea #3
“A gift from our old friend Kaeleith.” Kyros supplies quickly.
His hand rests lightly on my hip; the move is all male dominance as he brings himself a step closer to Rowan and angles his body partially in front of mine.
“I read what I could, but some of it I can’t decipher.
I was hoping you could translate—confirm what I think it’s saying.
” Kyros briefly looks down at me. Rowan also drops his gaze in my direction before grunting and taking the book.
Clearly, he is more interested in what information its pages hold than continuing to argue with either of us.
Rowan sinks down into one of the chairs next to a table with a white pillar candle that’s spilling wax onto the rough, cracked wood top.
He doesn’t wait for anyone to follow him.
Instead, he immediately starts flipping and scanning through the pages, hunched close to the flickering flame to illuminate the words.
Every page he rifles through, his forehead becomes more and more wrinkled with something that looks like concern.
“I thought that the creature I saw seemed like something I had heard of before. A story of lore told around a fire to scare the more naive. A twist on the lore that’s said to come from the monsters in Zameil.
” He shakes his head, continuing to scan the page in front of him, his finger actively tracing line by line before it suddenly stops.
“I didn’t put it together, but with this, now it makes sense!
” He looks up from the page he's stopped on, his finger planted on the words and his eyes wide.
“Umbra Vitae?” His eyes jump to Kyros, then again to me.
More specifically, my arms. No one here in Aithne has had a chance to really see the markings.
Not with all the chaos that followed our arrival and quick departure to The Pit.
“You are Senka-born.” It's a statement more than it is a question. Kyros stares at his friend with a look I don't care to discern, not after his reaction to Kellan. My mouth is a thin line as I look between the two of them. An agonizing groan sounds from the group on the other side of the room, and I spin. Kyros can answer his non-question. I quickly cross the space to Cole’s side and settle my focus on Kellan, who needs the attention. It’s not like I have any answers for Rowan anyway.
Kellan groans again as he begins waking up.
I wrap my hand around his and lean down, whispering reassurances that he is ok.
Telling him he is being taken care of and he’s safe, even if I don’t think I truly believe that yet.
His head rolls back and forth on the table, and he squeezes my fingers painfully.
“Kellan, you are going to be ok. Just—OW! Kellan let go. You’re hurting me.
” I cry out in pain. In an instant, Kyros appears at my side in a blur.
His fingers wrap around Kellan’s wrist, squeezing until he finally releases his grip on me.
Kellan grunts in pain as he tries to move against Kyros’ grip.
Kyros only holds him more firmly, growling in annoyance before Kellan relents.
Letting his head fall back against the table, he lets out a sigh as he looks up at the low ceiling.
“The King—” Kellan shakes his head back and forth, and I hold my breath as I wait to hear what horror he’s going to say about my father.
His head tilts to the side, his one eye, swollen and red, locks on mine.
“He’s dead.” His voice is only a croak, breaking on the last word, but it echoes through the room loud enough that it could have been a shout.
Everyone is still around us. The very air in my lungs seems to solidify.
I didn’t hear that right… He couldn't have said…
“How?” Kyros asks before I find my voice. It's still trapped behind a wave of emotion that is choking me. His hand is an anchor where it rests lightly on my low back; without it, my racing heart would have me already running from the room. He can’t be…
“She—” Kellan’s voice scrapes out of his dry throat again, gaining my attention.
The adrenaline buzzing through my veins urges me to move.
So I slowly, almost numbly make my way to the head of the table and pour water haphazardly into the cup sitting next to the pitcher.
My hands are too shaky to pour the liquid without spilling it.
Mindlessly, I help Kellan sit up some and offer him the water to drink.
Pressing the rim of the mug to his lips, I tip a small amount into his mouth.
He coughs as the water coats his parched throat.
“Who?” I ask, and surprising me, it's Kyros who speaks next. I look up to see him standing at the edge of the table looking down toward where Kellan sits propped up in my arms, but his gaze is somewhere else entirely.
“The Queen of Diemos,” he grits his teeth as he balls fists at his sides. “—Phaedra.” He spits her name like a curse, and then his eyes lock with mine.